Moments with a Harlequin
by Harley-Cat
Summary: It wasn't just the Joker and Ivy. Harley affected other people, too. New person each time. Reviews appreciated.
1. Joan Leland

Characters belong to D.C

(POV of Dr. Joan Leland)

"Okay, Harleen. Let's begin the session."

"Sure thing, Doc. I wanna get a coupla stuff off my chest."

My former psychiatric friend smiled brightly at me from the couch, completely oblivious to my silent remorse.

It had been my entire fault; I never should have let her have session with someone as evil and unredeemable as the Joker. I practically LET the clown take her, poisoning her mind with lies and false love. Even though years had passed, I could never truly forgive myself.

"Why don't we begin with your week? How was it?"

"Okay, I guess…I really kinda miss bein' near Puddin'. When can I see him?"

"Uh…you can't see him, remember? Its part of your rehabilitation…"

She gazed over at me, eyes large and lips pursed into a babyish pout. My heart broke a little as I remembered that this insane, childish woman once walked down the halls of Arkham; calm, confident, and full of intelligent eagerness to show the world what she was capable of.

But what broke my heart the most, was that the two of us had once been good friends, chatting frequently, sharing theories, talking politics, and occasionally enjoying a simple laugh together. Not anymore. I was now the doctor and she was the patient. So much for friendship.

"So…is there anything you would like to talk about? Anything that you've been feeling lately?"

Harley's pout dissolved into a small smile.

"Sure, Doc! Lately I've been feelin' kind of glum. Maybe it's just the drugs they give me?"

"Perhaps, but maybe you are troubled. How have your dreams been at night? Any nightmares?"

"…A few…"

"Care to share them?"

Harley blinked and sat back on the couch, leaning her blonde, pig-tailed hair against the soft cushion. Her expression was uneasy, like a child faced with a difficult math problem.

"Its not really nightmares. It's more like memories, ya know? Lately, I've been dreaming about my Daddy…"

I raised an eyebrow, Harley rarely mentioned her parents.

"What about your father?"

She squirmed uncomfortably, refusing to look at me in the eyes.

"I dreamt about when he died. God, I was only a kid then! Daddy was out getting me a present since my birthday was comin' up. There was some construction goin' on outside, and when he was walking by he…. he…"

"He what, Harleen?"

I was totally engrossed now. Harley had never told me about this.

She stared at me, her eyes pitiful and mourning.

"A brick or something fell on him from above. Hit him right on the head. He died right away. Mama didn't talk much to me after that. Heh, I guess it was kind of my fault since he was out shopping for me in the first place."

There was silence in the room as I scribbled down some notes, quietly shocked from Harley's story. No wonder she never mentioned her parents.

Harley tilted her head to the side, as if she were trying to see what I was writing.

"Anyways, I don't wanna talk about that anymore. Can we talk about Mistah J?"

"Er…I suppose so. How about we discuss his treatment towards you? What has he done to you lately?"

Harley's eyes glared at me, obviously she did not suggest discussing him just so that she could point out his flaws.

"Puddin' did nothin'! I swear! I wanna talk about our latest heist together. He was so nice to me! We danced in the light of the moon and laughed 'till our faced turned red. Well…at least mine did. Mistah J's face is always that whitish color. We were rudely interrupted by ole Bat-breath, though. I really can't stand that self-righteous jerk."

I looked about Harley's body on the couch and noticed a small red mark on her cheek.

"What's that bruise? Did Joker hurt you again?"

It seemed that every time I say Harley, there would always be a bruise or a cut somewhere on her body. The Joker's work.

"He didn't do anything! My Puddin' loves me. That was from Batman. Really, Joanie!"

_Joanie…_

_She used to call me that when we were friends…_

"Harleen, you've got to tell me the truth. If we ever want to rehabilitate you-"

"Rehabilitate me? Why can't you just accept that Mistah J and I don't need rehabilitatin'? Why can't you just let us be? We're meant to be together. We really are…"

_Honest, Joan, I can handle him. I promise you that you've got nothing to worry about._

The same, desperate voice…the same persitstence.

"I just wanna be with Mistah J. He really does love me an' we're gonna get married and have lots of babies one day and…and…nobody will bother us anymore, once we kill off the Bat. You'll see."

Really, Joan, I don't need any help. We need our sessions together. He needs me to make him sane again. He NEEDS me…

The guilt, the sorrow, it was swallowing me. I couldn't take it. Even a psychiatrist has her limits. Unable to control myself any longer, I burst into tears. Harley cocked her head, puzzled by my sudden emotion.

"Doc? Joan? You okay? I didn't mean ta make ya sad. I just really love Puddin'. I'm sorry."

"I-its not y-your fault," I sniffed, disgusted at my lack of composure, "I just n-need a moment…"

I had led this happen. My fault.

Harley gazed at me, expression soft and pitying. For a moment, she almost looked like the woman I had known before, sweet, gentle, and ready to lend a helpful ear. If only I had treasured her then.

"C'mon, Joan. Don't cry. Smile. I do it all the time. I hate seein' people sad."

Wiping my eyes, I tried to smile at my concerned patient.

"Its…its alright now. I'm better. Perhaps, we should end the session. Is that alright with you?"

"Fine by me. See ya next week, Doc."

Another week…

Another session of guilt…

Harley gave me a friendly wave as the guards came in to escort her back to her cell, having already forgotten the little outburst that took place.

Giving her a small wave back, I watched as the guards led her down the hall, staring regretfully until she was completely out of sight.

"I'm sorry, Harleen."


	2. Hatter

Characters belong to D.C

(Hatter's POV)

There she is again, Harleen Quinzel, otherwise known as Harley Quinn.

She is a bright, gleeful thing, always full of curious energy and zeal, like a bunny.

"Hiya, Hatty! Long time no see!"

She always called me that, never Hatter or Jervis, just "Hatty" as if we were youngsters at play. I rather liked that.

"Er…hello miss Quinzel."

She giggled, a high, light-hearted sort of noise, causing me to blush a puzzling shade of red.

"Told ya before, Hatty, call me Harley. Everyone does."

"Alright then, Harley. And how are you? Life in this asylum is bearable I presume?"

I was trying to be as suave as possible; I always got uncomfortable when talking to Harley. Like a schoolboy.

"Bearable? THIS place? Psh, never in a million years. Anyways, wanna hear a secret?"

She leaned forward, cupping her small hand close to my ear, making it harder for me not to turn red. I rather enjoyed her touch.

"I think that Puddin' is gonna bust out tonight," she whispered, eyes darting from side to side, "I'll bet that he'll take me with him. Won't that be fun, Hatty? We're gonna paint Gotham green and red!"

She cackled delightedly, as if she were a naughty child that had peeked at her Christmas presents.

I gazed at her as she laughed, noticing the way her blonde hair seemed to glow in the dim asylum lights, noticing the way her bright blue eyes sparkled with life, noticing that sweet, familiar girlish laughter in her voice.

So familiar…

_Almost like Alice…_

I shook my head, letting the painful image of my dear Alice fade away.

"Um…that's nice, Harley. I wish you and your beau good luck. Perhaps, I too shall escape from this wretched place soon."

"Aw, don't worry, pal! You'll get out. Ya just gotta wait 'till the right moment. I can't wait to be with Mistah J again. It's been waaay to long."

I snorted into my hand to suppress a chuckle: Harley had only been at the asylum for two days. Harley seemed to notice my actions but said nothing; she simply smiled dreamily out into space.

"I hope that Mistah J is glad to see me. I kind of screwed up on the last heist."

I stopped my snorting to look at her, becoming aware of the small, discoloring mark on her neck. Was it the work of the clown or was it simply an insignificant bruise?

"I'm sure that he'll be happy to see you. I just wish that I had someone in my life…"

Harley smiled sweetly at me, giving me a friendly pat on the shoulder.

"You will. Don't let those lousy shrinks tell ya otherwise. I was the same way when I was a doctor and boy, was I wrong! Don't let those pests stop you from findin' love."

I blinked, touched at her comforting words; Harley always seemed to know what to say. For a brief moment, I wanted to kiss her.

"HEY, you two! Stop socializing and get back to your cells. Break-time is over!"

A large, brawny guard stepped forward menacingly, eyes glaring with disgust.

Harley whirled around to face this huge giant, standing her ground, eyes gleaming fiercely. Alice against the queen of hearts.

"Bite me, ya great blunderin' oaf!"

She stuck out her tongue and blew a huge raspberry.

The guard's face reddened.

"That's it, Quinzel. You've earned yourself a day in solitary confinement."

"*%$# Yourself!"

I wanted to cheer. Such spunk! Such boldness!

Bravo, Quinn. Bravo.

With the help of more guards, Harley was dragged away, laughing giddily the whole time, screaming that her Joker would rescue her and that they couldn't keep her locked up forever.

Sighing, I began to head back towards my cell, pausing to look back.

Harley was nowhere to be seen. They must have dragged her off. Shame.

Sitting on my bunk, I let my thoughts drift towards Harley, feeling an odd fluttering sensation in my chest, almost as if I were in love…


	3. Scarecrow

Characters belong to D.C

(Scarecrow's POV)

Moonlight streaked through the broken window, aiding me as I fumbled blindly through the cluttered shelves, trying to find the perfect beaker for my newest chemical.

I had only escaped from Arkham a week ago, polishing off the unfortunate guards with my deadly fear toxin, and had sought refuge in the old Funnibone warehouse, a place where many criminals before me had concealed themselves in, plotting mischief.

Smiling with satisfaction, I held up the test tube containing my latest batch of fear toxin, completely oblivious to the soft footsteps behind me.

It wasn't until I spotted the figure's shadow, that I knew someone was there.

Panic swept over me as I lunged for the figure. Was it the Batman?

I heard a loud ''Oomph'' as I toppled onto the person, sending us both to the floor.

Blinking in the darkness, I was relieved to discover that it was not Batman at all.

"Hi, Professor Crane."

It was miss Quinzel, the only other person I knew who had once been a doctor at Arkham. I admit that I was always rather fond of the child. She never called me 'Scarecrow'; she would always call me 'Professor Crane', as if we were both still doctors. She always saw me as a man and not a freak.

"Hello, my child. Whatever are you doing here?"

Inspecting her closely, I could see how ragged and torn her costume was, as if she had been traveling around in a frantic panic. A torn area on her leg revealed a small bruise that was bleeding.

She smiled sweetly at me, obviously unaware of her condition.

"Mistah J relocated again. I've been lookin' everywhere for him. I figured that he might be here since we once used this joint as a hideout."

I shook my head.

"I'm sorry. Joker is not hiding here. This is my new hideout."

She frowned sulkily, disappointed that her beloved wasn't there. I knew all about the way the clown treated her. It really wasn't fair that a sweet, good-natured girl like miss Quinzel had to be the slaving hench-woman of someone as disgusting and hateful as the Joker.

Cocking her head questioningly, Harley pointed to my vial.

"What's that? Are ya gonna use that stuff on Batman?"

"That's right," I said proudly, enjoying the admiring expression lighting her features, "This new batch should wipe out Gotham's big old Bat in mere seconds. I just perfected it tonight. With this toxin, all will bow before the mighty Scarecrow!"

She grinned admiringly, "Good luck with that, Professor. I better get going if I wanna find Puddin'. Bye." She began limping towards the door.

"Wait," I called out to her, not wanting her friendly presence to leave so soon, "your knee is bleeding! Stay for a bit and let me tend to it. Just for a while."

She turned around to face me, one eyebrow raised.

"I really should be looking for Mistah J… but alright. I guess I can't be wanderin' around with a busted knee, can I?"

Gratified that I could keep her with me for a little longer, I wrapped her wound with a clean cloth as she babbled away on how great her 'Puddin' was.

I almost wished that Harley could have been with me instead of with scum like the Joker. Not in a romantic way, just in a companionable bond. I would have a Hench girl whom I could always count on, who admired me and who I could talk to…

When I was through tending to her, Harley got up to leave.

"Thanks, Professor! Sorry to have bothered you. You've always been so patient with me and I really appreciate it."

"Not at all. You're one of the few people in this world that I actually like. Perhaps we should meet more often."

She blushed slightly, stumbling for the door. I had embarrassed her.

"Uh…yeah. Bye." And just like that, she was gone, off to find the man who didn't care for her the way a person should.

I stood by myself in the empty room, the low hiss of chemicals issuing from my lab table.

In darkness she came and in darkness she left.

"Farewell, my child."


	4. Batgirl

Characters belong to D.C

(Batgirl's POV)

It was raining the night I patrolled the city, rain glistening on pavement like glazed clay.

Shivering from the cold, I stuck around Gotham's alleyways, waiting for the downpour to halt.

I had been patrolling all night, searching for criminals, inspecting for traces of heinous plots prepared for the city. The Joker had escaped from Arkham two months ago, killing most of the guards and more or less currently planning some corrupted criminal act for poor Bruce to face. I really hated that clown.

"Ugh…"

I whirled around at the sound of the person, cursing myself for being so off-guard.

What I saw next was a horrid sight.

Harley Quinn limped out of the shadows of the alley, looking as if she were about to fall any moment. Her costume was torn; revealing parts of her bare skin covered in bruises and cuts. The corner of her mouth was bleeding and one of her eyes was almost completely swollen shut. I didn't have to know who had done this to her.

"Harley?"

Lifting her head up sharply, her one good eye glared at me with nothing less than hate.

"Well, if it ain't old Bratgirl. I'll bet your just dying to throw me back to the asylum. Just try."

She lifted her arms up weakly, trying to curl her bruised hands into fists, making a very pitiful attempt to fight.

"Harley…what did he do to you?"

She glowered fiercely at me, trying so hard to stand, acting like she wasn't hurt at all.

"Mistah J did nothin'! That was my fault. I got in his way!"

"Harley please-you're very hurt. Please come quietly and I promise that I'll get you immediate medical attention."

"I don't need medical attention! I'm fine and I'm not goin' back to Arkham. You better fight me before drawing any conclusions."

And just like that, she charged violently at me, shrieking with fury, trying to hurt me with her exhausted punches. It didn't take long for me to subdue her, causing her to collapse in a fatigued heap at my feet.

I stood there silently in the rain as Harley breathed rapidly, to weak from her abuse to continue fighting. In a random moment, she began laughing (the noise sounding like dying moans) as she licked the blood off her fists, squinting out of her good eye at me. Presently, her laughter regressed to mournful sobs, screaming through the rain, echoing in heart-broken wails against the landscape of my memory.

"Harley…"

I offered her a hand for support, hoping that I could peacefully transfer her to the authorities. No such luck: she refused the gesture and only continued to lie on the moist ground.

"Guess I screwed up again," she murmured sadly, staring at the ground in misery, "That's why Puddin' had to punish me. I've been a very bad girl."

"Where is the Joker, Harley?"

Her poor condition was another reason why I was craving for the clown to be brought to justice.

Harley shrugged limply, "I ain't tellin'. He was in such a big hurry to move that he forgot about me. Not his fault."

I sighed, trying to fathom why Harley continued to defend him, even after he had hurt her and left her behind. Harley truly was insane.

She gazed up at me and smiled forlornly, "Guess this means that I still gotta go to Arkham, huh?"

I fought back to urge to cry and comfort her. I never understood why a clinical psychiatrist would ever fall in love with someone as vile and evil as the Joker. In that moment, I pitied Harley more than anything.

Perhaps, we could have been friends in another life…

"The police should be here soon. Let's just wait a bit."

"Guess that's a 'yes'."

Blue and red lights flashed as the police arrived, gently scooping Harley onto a gurney.

Harley told them to wait for a moment before they shut the doors of the ambulance.

She smiled at me with sickly hope.

"If ya see Puddin' around, please tell him that I wish him good luck with his plot."

As the cars and trucks pulled away, I stood there in grieving silence. The rain had stopped briefly. But I knew that for Harley, the rain never stopped.

Her love would drown her in the end.


	5. Harley and Batman

Characters belong to D.C

(Harley's POV)

I was back at Arkham again.

Boy, you'd think that people could just give you a break for once!

Ever since the Bat-bitch hauled me in, all the shrinks kept looking at me funny. I suppose that they were just waiting for me to squeal on my Puddin'. Yeah right!

After recovering in the infirmary (I heal really fast!) the lousy guards stuck me back at my cruddy cell. You should have seen the way I fought those creeps on the way; punchin' and kickin' them like there was no tomorrow!

Sitting alone on my tiny bunk, I let my thoughts drift to Mistah J, planning the biggest surprise ever for Gotham. Hee hee hee…

Only problem was that I had been caught while I was looking for him. Mistah J can be really strange; one minute he'll be punishing me, and the next he'll be waltzing me happily around the room. I prefer the latter.

Puddin' doesn't hit me ALL the time. Not really. Just when I screw up. He really does love me.

There was a knock at the steel door of my cell, more like pounding, really.

And just like that, there he was; the good ole I-can't-stand-his-guts Batman, glaring at me the way cat glares at a rodent. Boy, oh boy, wouldn't this be fun?

"Quinn, I'm here to found out information on where the Joker is."

God, Batsy talks so menacingly! You could put the man in a horror flick as the main villain.

I stuck out my tongue and gave him my most revolted face.

"No way, Bats! I ain't tellin' where Mistah J is at."

As if her were ignoring my refusal, the big lug pulled up a chair and sat there the way a therapist would. Great, he was going to interrogate me. Just my luck.

"I understand that you were taken in by Batgirl-"

"Ugh, don't even mention her! I'm gonna puke."

"-Bleeding and near hysteria. You had said that Joker was still out there planning. Where is he?"

I smiled and wiggled my toes, "Not tellin'! It's gonna take a lot more than that for me to even consider ratting Mistah J out."

"I won't leave until I have answers, Quinn. For the sake of many lives, you'd better start talking."

My hand was itching for a bazooka or something. I wanted to blow the self-righteous jerk to kingdom come.

Instead, I simply laughed, enjoying the frustrated expression that was creeping up on Batman's face. Poor loser.

"If you won't reveal where Joker is at, I'll make the doctors withdraw your antibiotics. You're going to need them if you intend on healing in the future."

I stopped laughing then. I needed the painkillers. The jerk didn't make this easier for me. I began to hate him more then ever as I exploded in rage.

"I WON'T TELL! NEVER! When Mistah J finishes up on his plans, he's gonna destroy you and half the city with it! Just watch!"

Batman was silent.

I didn't care; I turned my back to him, crossing my arms, facing the wall.

"Why can't you just go away? Why can't you leave us alone? As long as you're here, poor Mistah J has to be tormented and paranoid. It's n-not f-fair…"

I was beginning to cry (again!), trying not to let the Bat see what a softie I was. He did once. I didn't want him to see it again.

"Harley…I understand that you care for him. But this is for the sake of Gotham-"

"T-the HELL w-with Gotham! I hate t-this city. All t-they ever do is s-shoot at me and Mistah J. They can't see how great he really is. They're the insane ones, not us."

I looked over at Batman, who was staring at me with an expression of pity. Pity?

Pity?! Couldn't he see that I didn't want his sympathy? I loved being who I was, creating mischief to the city. He could take his pity and shove it.

"Quinn," he said softly, staring at me with a strange sort of gentleness, "I wish that we could have sorted this out rationally. I'm sorry to have taken up your time."

He got up and stepped through the door, leaving me still slightly disoriented on the bunk.

His face was full of disappointment, as he turned back to me for a brief moment.

"You're the insane one, Harley. You value the clown to the point of self-destruction. One day, Joker will really hurt you… maybe even kill you. It's not to late to start over. Remember that."

He left.

I was troubled; Mistah J wouldn't do that, would he?

Getting up, I pressed my face up against the glass wall of my cell, watching as the Batman exited down the hall. Sighing, I fell back onto my bunk, curling myself up into a ball, thinking deeply.

I knew I could never start over. I loved Mistah J too much. I had given up boring, old Harleen Quinzel and I had traded her for Harley Quinn. That was the way it would always be.

I would never, ever leave my Puddin's side. Never. He was the reason I existed, the reason why I turned to crime. Without him, my world turns to gray, food tasting like ash in my mouth, despair drowning me like a tidal wave. I couldn't let him go.

Sanity just wasn't worth it anymore.


	6. Batman

Note from author-

_A couple of folks really wanted a Batman POV so I've decided to give him the epilogue. Hope it makes you all happy! (laughs) Okay, no more goofing off! Final chapter go!_

Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

(Batman's POV)

She was a fool, a silly infatuated clown forever clinging on to the edges of insanity.

Harley Quinn had once been a person of society…now she was a menace of society.

Most people will wonder, what drove her over the edge? Greed? Power? Revenge?

No, it was not either of those things. She had become a corrupted criminal simply over the supremacy of love. Harleen Quinzel had drowned in a sea of her own delusions.

I couldn't say that I cared lovingly for Quinn, but I really wanted her to turn over a new leaf. It was like trying to coax a desert to rain.

Eight hours after I interrogated Quinn, I caught the Joker.

The clown was giggling softly when we returned to Arkham, laughing harder when I handed him over to the guards.

As I turned to leave, a shriek rang through the halls… Harley's shrieks.

"Leave my Puddin' alone! Let him goooo!"

She was banging her head against the glass wall of her cell, screaming curses at the guards.

Her eyes locked hatefully at me.

"You dirty, abusing flying rat! I'll get you for this! You hear me? Mistah J and I will take you down!"

Joker grinned nastily at me.

_See what I did? _

I walked away briskly; leaving the clown and his hysterical girlfriend to the sedatives that probably awaited them.

My mind was troubled.

That look she gave me! So full of hate! So familiar…

A young blonde psychiatrist cradling the wounded Joker in her arms, sobbing and glaring murderously at the same time…

Climbing into the Batmobile, I drove away from the sickening asylum, not wanting to feed off of its twisted love story any longer.

It was a story of corruption and lust. It hung around the halls, whispering the silent tale to all who listened. For the people who knew her, each one had a story to tell, each one had their own feelings. Their stories echo down the halls, too, creating their own inner insanity. In the end, they mixed with the horrid romance and drifted through Arkham together.

For the love of a man, Harley Quinn had given up everything.

And for love, she had fallen.

Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

_Whew! All done! Hope you liked it._

_I want to thank all the people who reviewed my story, whether you loved it or couldn't stand it._

For those of you who hated it, keep in mind that I wrote this story simply for the purpose of conveying Harley's more tragic side. She's not a victim, but she certainly gets more crap then she deserves. I wanted to show her inner turmoil through the eyes of other characters.

_For those who loved it, I'm glad you took the time to read my work. Harley's a bit of a little girl in an adult's body, huh?;) I hope you all continue to read my stories in the future. (Gives you all a cookie)_

_Thanks again!_

_-CAT_


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